Against the burly air I rode

Fin du blog. La suite sur publicroads.blogspot.com

Vue sur la cour Pasteur de la chambre R334, bientôt détruite

Merci à Fouad et Anne-Marie pour les réglages préliminaires de mon vélo
Merci à David et à Pauline pour le soutien à distance
Merci à Laurent pour les cartes et pour les indications de choses à voir
Thanks to Mary for coming with me from London to Watchet
Thanks to Paul and Mary from Minehead
Thanks to Sus and Mike from Exeter
Thanks to Pete from Exeter for cycling with me to Ottery Saint Mary
Thanks to Mike and Anita from Bournemouth, and to Mike for adjusting my gears and cycling with me to Lymington in a pouring rain
Merci à Nico de Rouen et ses collocs
Merci à Denis et Sylvie de Hénonville

Thanks to all who read this blog...

Homeward bound

J'ai un peu erré dans les rues du Havre, parmi d'étranges bâtiments.

Pont sur le bassin Vauban

 J'ai parcouru les grandes rues toutes droites qui partent de l'hôtel de ville. Le tramway de la ville est en construction. Habitants: "Oui c'est sûr qu'avec les travaux du tramway les choses sont plus compliquées".

Tramway en travaux

Je me suis perdue, j'ai fait des allers-retours, des détours et des demi-tours, puis j'ai trouvé une route pour m'en aller. Direction Rouen. Je passe par Harfleur. La D6015 n'est pas du tout sympathique, je me rabats sur la D40 qui est un peu mieux. Vent plutôt favorable. Je déjeune sur des marches de pierre à Mélamare, un tout petit village. J'aime bien ce nom vaguement inquiétant, Mélamare. Grosse averse, qui passe... Des averses qui passent ! [En France, on a parfois le droit d'attendre qu'une averse soit passée.]

La D61 me mène agréablement de Lillebonne à Caudebec en Caux. Lorsqu'elle passe par Villequier, j'ai une pensée pour le Grand Crocodile :

Maintenant que Paris, ses pavés et ses marbres,
Et sa brume et ses toits sont bien loin de mes yeux ;
Maintenant que je suis sous les branches des arbres,
Et que je puis songer à la beauté des cieux

Quelques montées mais rien de pénible. Je n'ai pas le temps de suivre toutes les boucles de la Seine, alors je coupe. J'ai l'impression que c'est un peu lâche de prendre un raccourci, simplement parce que le fleuve tentateur déploie ses méandres un peu plus au sud. L'arrivée sur Rouen est très belle, même sous une grosse averse. [Le temps incertain est parfois une bénédiction, grâce aux lumières étranges.]

Arrivée vers 19h chez Nicolas et ses collocs. Je découvre que le porte-bouteille de mon vélo est exactement à la taille d'une bouteille de vin. Discussion sur le cyclisme en solitaire avec Nico, ainsi que sur les épices (et le poulet au cidre) avec Mourad. On visite la ville de nuit.

Je repars le lendemain matin vers 11h après une nuit-canapé au sommeil très profond.

Sortie de Rouen

Je décide que Paris-Rouen ne se fera pas en un jour : j'arriverais la nuit, et fatiguée. Mon genou droit est aussi de cet avis. Il ne va pas si mal, mais il faut en général que je le démarre à la main, en appuyant dessus - en mode starter.
[Nico m'a donné une grosse tablette (200g) de chocolat à 70%. Je l'aurai presque finie à la fin de la journée.]

Je commence par me diriger tranquillement vers les Andelys. On me conseille d'aller voir Château Gaillard, j'obtempère, malgré les récriminations de mon genou droit à propos de la montée épique qui y mène.

Au moment où j'arrive en haut, le soleil sort.

J'ai un endroit où dormir vers l'est, au sud de Beauvais, dans un petit village qui s'appelle Hénonville. Je traverse l'Eure d'ouest en est, à bonne vitesse. Je suis entourée de champs et de nuages. Les petites routes sont très calmes, c'est plat, le vent me pousse, mon genou ne se plaint pas.

Le genre de route que j'aime.

 Je m'arrête parfois pour admirer les nuages dans le silence.

"Les nuages, là-bas, les merveilleux nuages"

J'arrive à Hénonville juste après une averse, chez Denis et Sylvie. On boit de la bière, puis du ti-punch, puis du rhum tout seul (pour ma part), on discute bien et on mange de très bonnes pizzas [tartes, plutôt]. Après une autre bonne nuit (combien de bonnes nuits !) je repars vers 8h, et sans grande hâte me dirige vers Paris. Une nappe de brume est tombée sur les champs pendant la nuit.

Misty morning

Peu de vent. Je m'arrête à Auvers sur Oise [et je mange encore du chocolat], c'est très joli. Puis c'est la descente vers Paris, de plus en plus de voitures, quelques embouteillages, Saint-Denis que je connais, la porte de Clignancourt...
Home.

Dans la cour Pasteur les arbres sont à présent tout verts. Le printemps s'est installé pendant que j'étais ailleurs.

Is this my own countree?

Le bateau a beaucoup tangué, surtout en sortant de Portsmouth. Les gens allaient et venaient avec des airs concentrés en s'accrochant aux rampes. [Je me souviens d'un roman de mon enfance où les gens avaient le mal de mer. Les premières grosses vagues amusaient beaucoup les passagers, puis ils devenaient tout pâles et se retiraient piteusement dans leurs cabines. Quelques jours après, cependant, tout le monde avait le pied marin. Seulement, il ne suffit pas d'une nuit.]

On ne peut pas dormir assis, c'est une ineptie. Je me couche par terre. Je me dis que je retraverserais bien l'île de Wight sous la pluie deux ou trois fois avec le vent dans le nez, plutôt que de tanguer sur ce bateau stupide. Ce n'est même pas un vrai tangage de bateau à voile, c'est un vague roulis d’ascenseur malade, très lent, très pénible. Je pense à mon vélo dans la cale, je l'ai certainement mal attaché, mal calé, dans quel état vais-je le retrouver ?

Puis ça se calme, ou bien je m'endors, ou les deux.
Au réveil le Havre est en vue...

Water, water everywhere

Not the slightest ray of sun today. The rain never stopped.
Mike: "We haven't had a rain like that for weeks."

I am now in Portsmouth waiting for the overnight ferry to Le Havre,
hoping my shoes will dry some day.

This morning we had porridge and croissants (!) with Mike and Anita.
Mike cycled with me to Lymington, where I took a ferry to the isle of Wight.

Ticket man: "Sure you want to cycle there with the rain and the wind?"
"Well, as it happens it is the shortest way to Portsmouth."
The isle of Wight as a shortcut... Forgive me.
 It was warm in the ferry but nothing dried. People looked at me askance.
I crossed the island avoiding A and B roads.

Straight from Yarmouth to Ryde

 There was a ridiculous mountain bike episode at the end of which my bike was covered in mud. My brakes got completely loose. I should do something now but I cant be bothered. It is warm here and rainy outside.
I could hardly see anything in the rain and the mist. Or was the mist nothing but steam on my glasses?
People were driving fast, vexed perhaps by this terrible Easter Monday.
Still, I am sad to leave England. I could have spent one day more on this side, but they expected more dreadful weather.

Wessex: meadow, grove and stream

A Shakespearian reminiscence:
"We were as twinned lambs that did frisk i'the sun..."

I saw many things today. This morning seems ages ago. I am now in Bournemouth at Mike and Anita's. They have a very cosy flat, up a hill (again)...

First, fom Abbotsbury (where I slept for a while, huddled against the church) to Weymouth. Looming clouds and some rain. Early in the morning the road was quiet. The air was full of brine and other good things. It took me some time to warm up and manage the hills.

[Two different ways to deal with hills. The first way is when you are in shape and use the bike weight to make your way up: you push hard on your legs, on a hard gear. The second way is to remain seated, sedately pass the easiest gear and think of something else. At some point it becomes more sensible.]

When I arrived in Weymouth drizzle had turned into a steady rain. All the same I went to see Wyke Regis, and I caught a glimpse of Chesil Beach.
Then up north to Dorchester.

Cycling path, not bad but sometimes too close to the main road. The sky turned clearer and there was some beautiful light.
Dorchester.
Maiden Castle! Eerie place, immensely green after so many years.

Maiden Castle

A beautiful street crossing Dorchester from west to east. The town is nice and small. I am tired of cycling and treat myself to a short walk.

Dorchester main street

Hardy is everywhere, sometimes spelt Hardye.

 I went to see Hardy's cottage in Higher Bockhampton, following the Cycling Route 2. Worthy detour.

 There, a lady told me that Hardy himself was a keen cyclist, though he took to it late in his life, and that he often cycled from there to Bournemouth. That was comforting! [I hope it was true, I doubt it].

I caught something of the spirit of the place cycling through Dorset. The vegetation is unusual, very green and very dry at the same time, with heather everywhere.

At some point, the sun came out and everything was transformed. There are mysterious trees. I dont know their names. A dead tree is terribly conspicuous against a cloudy sky.

"It looks so old and grey"

After passing a village called Wool I suddenly felt very hungry, ate some bread and then fell asleep in the grass. Back on my bike I still felt drowsy , a nice feeling.
Then I followed a wonderful cycling path to Wareham and then Sandbanks.
Corfe castle is a castle, really. "One of Britain's most iconic and evocative survivors of the English Civil War, partially demolished in 1646 by the Parliamentarians."

Corfe Castle

Before Sandbanks I ride up a high hill which commands the bay.

A view of Bournemouth Bay

Bournemouth bay is impressive. There is a small ferry drawn by a chain that goes from Sandbanks to Poole... It's a shortcut. I like shortcuts.

This evening, my knees tend to protest. Mike says that if the front of my knees ache, my saddle might be too low. I would say that the hills might be slightly too high as well.
Mike is a bike gear professional. I want goretex shoe-covers, and a hand-made saddle-bag. I obviously need a new [carbon] racing bike as well, with automatic pedals!
Apparently my gear problems originated in a gear cage placed too high. It makes sense, it's better now but some problems remain.

Another hill, and still another

Morning porridge!

I started from Exeter at 9am to Ottery Saint Mary. Pete came with me with
his nice Peugeot bike. We talked much on the way.

Small paths and winding roads.

Coleridge everywhere... 

Note the perfect rhyme.

The "Poet's Stones", not finished yet but currently being engraved in China...
["Coleridge aurait sans doute trouvé ça stupide" (une autorité compétente)].

We ate halva and flapjacks before the church.

To an elderly woman passing by:
"Excuse me, do you know where Coleridge's house is?"
"Yes, up there, but he doesn't live in it anymore."
"Hum well I guess not..."
"He now lives in the parsonage. He is a very good man. Unfortunately, he is going blind."

And we learnt much about the dignified Coleridge family and Melanesians.

Coleridge, Pete and bikes

Then Pete had to go back, unfortunately, and I cycled on my own towards the coast. Good cycling but so many hills! It almost seemed that they were there with a purpose. Things have to add up. Some say "when there's a will, there's a way"; I would add "when there's a hill, there's a view".

I wish I hadn't taken a tent.

My bike it has upon its rack

No doubt a burthen weighty,

Some say this is a common plight

But I am sure it's heavy.

When I arrived in Beer riding down a very steep descent, the sun kept playing with clouds and it was very windy. Some Saturday people sipping pints at an outdoor cafe.

Beer

This sea really different from the northern one. Cliffs falling abruptly into an oily, shiny water.

Never-ending hills along the coast... Bulky forms. Wonderful to contemplate, hard to cycle up.

View from Seaton

The evening came. It started to rain.

I found a road shelter that seemed suitable -- dry and made of solid brick. I could hardly be seen from the road. I slept there for two hours or so. At some point, I opened my eyes and saw dubious black spots on the white wall. Insects. They were on the wall and on my sleeping bag and crushed under my panniers and creaking dead under my feet when I got up and walked. [With hindsight, it appears that they were woodlice. Woodlice are not insects but crustaceans.]

A woodlouse is not a very frightening creature in itself.

I think there was a nest of sorts. They were of all sizes. "A million million slimy things", at the very least. [No, they were not slimy. Woodlice are not slimy. And they were not a million either.] So I took a deep breath, packed my stuff and left. I cycled in the dark with the reassuring massive presence of the sea on my right. I finally found another shelter further south with fewer insects.

A sense of joy

I woke up from a deep and sound sleep without dreams. Max the dog was there to say hello ;).
We ate very good porridge with Paul and Mary. Porridge is good fuel for cyclists. With treacle and strawberries and mango yoghurt.
I started at 9am with better-inflated tyres. [Paul has a truing stand at home. Some day I will have one too].
Paul caught up with me driving to give me back the raincoat I had forgotten (thank you so much, I really needed it). When he found me I was trying to fix a gear problem and we tightened the cable. It was ok. (I tightened it a bit more when I arrived in Exeter and it was even better, I hope it will last.)
The road from Minehead to Exeter was sheer delight. Just the right weather, dry and cold and sunny.
This morning the Exe was a tiny stream... now it is a mighty river!
I ate an (cold) Easter cross bun just after a steep hill at the beginning... An Easter cross bun is what you need at the top of a hill.
Bike = will-powered machine.
A place on the road cold "Black Cat crossing" with a striking signpost.
Tiverton, beautiful castle, friendly people, I bought olives and pickled garlic and orange fudge to bring to Exeter.

Tiverton, between Minehead and Exeter

The Blue Boy 

Arrived in Exeter quite early and cycled around in a very happy mood.
I found an improbable Kindle charger. Then I walked pushing my bike for some time and sat in front of the cathedral, idle all for very joy. Then I set about to tighten my gear cable a bit more and true my wheel (I wanted to tighten the brakes which were slightly loose), which took about an hour. As it was getting darker, the streets quickly emptied, though it was only 4.30pm.

Bike and Exeter Cathedral

Then Pete came and we chatted and drank a hot chocolate and it was really nice. Maybe tomorrow we will cycle together for a while.
I am now at Sus and Mike's house who have an amazing flat by the river and fantastic stories to tell about cycling in Australia ;).
Going to Ottery Saint Mary... and further I hope.
Sun, please stay with me tomorrow and the days after.

A blessing in the air

To Minehead, the Moors and back to Minehead...
This morning was very grey and wet but we saw Nether Stowey and Kilve!
"The weather is not so good... But we don't say it's raining. We call it road spray".

It was really raining when we reached Nether Stowey, a first important milestone. Then to the sea! First to Kilve (by the green sea) and then to a village called Watchet, where you can find the statue of a very recognizable Ancient Mariner, with dead albatross, cross-bow and downcast eyes.

 Riding along the coast. I am happy and relieved to be close to the sea.

Near Watchet. Oh, que j'aille à la mer !

I am now in Minehead up a steep hill at Paul and Mary's house. They are providential. It feels good to be inside. Max the dog "thinks everybody is his best friend", which sounds like a good philosophy.
I had some phone problems (no charger) but things are ok now, except for the Kindle which is very slow (and battery almost down).

I will be in Exeter tomorrow evening and meet Susan and Mike who live by the river. [I wondered if I would be able to cycle from Minehead to Exeter. Paul and Mary told me the story of Andrew, who used to cycle there and back in a few hours when his girlfriend lived in Exeter and he in Minehead... So I assumed the one-way ride would be ok for me. And so it was: the way is straightforward and the distance not so long. About Andrew: he has a very nice youth hostel. I recommend it: http://www.hihostels.com/dba/hostels-Minehead-YHA-018208.en.htm.] The weather should be ok.

Chatter chatter chatter

We are now in Bridgwater.
Early in the morning, in "a garden stored with pease and mint and thyme", we had eggs with a bright orange yolk.

Then we left in the drizzle.
Lost in the Mendips...
Detours. No straight roads except B and A roads but we avoid them...
Mary is very good at finding routes. As for me, when I am cycling I am cycling. I don't look much around. I find it difficult do two things at the same time.
Pinapple cottage cheese is definitely the best one.
We rode through peat fields. Dark heaps and strange smells.
The sun came out suddenly at 2pm, but disappeared at 3pm never to reappear.
I am still sunburnt from the two first days, my cheeks are red as ruddy clover.
We rode down narrow roads, we even cycled in the grass at some point -- but this led nowhere.
I hate bends in the roads, I rely on my compass. The straighter the better.

There are seagulls in Bridgwater! We are not far from the sea.
Apparently there is snow in Manchester, and the weather forecast says there could be snow here too. It is very cold, but we're not camping tonight.

Prayer to the West Wind

Dear west wind,
How can we ride west if you keep blowing so strong?

We are now safe and warm in Frome, in a van some very nice people lent us.

Today: at the beginning there were only one or two wandering lonely clouds, then an ominous weather, then genuine showers. A day full of cows and hares and crows and daffodils, "happy living things".
Three days we rode in sun and shower...
There were some nice hills today.
The rain is not so bad -- otherwise it would be unreal. "We shall find a pleasure in the dimness of the stars".
Kindle battery running low already, blogging might become difficult at some point.
We sat on many a dedicated bench. I love them. We lunched on cottage cheese and bread and ate heaps of chocolate bars.

Mary, bikes and daffodils

 Salisbury. Friendly cathedral. We're not going to Salisbury plain, the weather is so stormy... Stonehenge will remain a mythic place for me.

Frome is a weird place, very hilly, with no center or so it seems.
My helmet is broken, my bike fell. At least it was useful in a way protected my bike. To hell with helmets. I was on helmet strike anyway.
A patter of rain is heard on the roof.

"Are you stepping westward?"

From Puttenham to King's Somborne, where we camped.

This morning when we woke up there was ice in our bottles.
Choral minstrelsy of birds - so loud...
Alton, pretty.
Jane Austen's house in Chawton. Very neat and clean, with tourists.
Riding westward from dawn to dusk with the sun!
Hills many hills not very high but still hills
Lunch among hills so green
Alresford (posh)
Postman: "just put your bikes in my van" (it was very steep)
Then he pushed my bike for three seconds and was tired
Ovington Avington Easton: so so posh
Winchester: down a steep road with a view on the cathedral :)
then even posher villages
acres and acres of land but nowhere to pitch a tent...
neat lawns
first clouds obfuscating the sun
instructions of a wo;an in a pub: "don4t be deceived by the word lane, it is a bloody mountain"
doorbells not working
eventually got a piece of garden and rugs again
and a fire stove

Mary and the stove

and some nuts
"We don't want two dead girls in the garden tomorrow morning!"
The night was cold but it was ok.
"O sleep it is a gentle thing"!

"I love a public road"

I arrived in London at 10am or so. I fetched my bike from the registered luggage service, and was happy that nothing had happened to it.They tried to give me a lock that was not mine, I said no, thanks, I don't have a key for this one. My [spontaneous] spoken English is quite rusty.
We rode from London to Puttenham by Clapham, Epsom, Leatherhead, Dorking.

In London
"Hey girls where are you going?"
"Somerset!"bike
"Waoh, and where did you start?"
"..."

Getting out of London in no fun. I hoped that Sunday would be ok, but there are many cars. Riding "mid the din of towns and cities" hoping for something else to come.
"Minor adjustments" (Mary): my bike is in constant need of minor adjustments. The map-reader I designed is quite convenient but needs to be safely secured to my front pannier, otherwise the wind blows against it. Photocopied maps are really handy. Real maps are heavy and don't fold easily. Our maps are quite precise, even though all small roads are not shown upon it.
I wasn't sure about my pedals, either... [I thought they might be loose, I had tightened them with a small spanner.] But now everything seems ok.

We rode up a hill near Box Hill and it was beautiful! Great vineyard.

We asked people for a place to pitch our tent, so they lent us a patch of grass in their garden and a big rug. It is cold.
Glorious weather
We are happy